


The Healer

by ObviouslyAnonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Eventual Smut, F/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:36:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObviouslyAnonymous/pseuds/ObviouslyAnonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a prisoner of Hydra, valuable to them because of your ability to heal. One day, they bring in The Winter Soldier. You end up healing more than just his physical wounds. He later returns to rescue you, and you both help each other heal in the aftermath of the events in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Eventual smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There were far too few Buckyxreader fanfics from The Winter Soldier period, so I decided to write one.
> 
> It isn't fan fiction, but if you like my writing you should check out my novel.   
> http://www.wattpad.com/story/29969122-naika

The door to your cell was suddenly thrown open and Brock Rumlow leaned against the open frame, both hands behind his back and posture stiff. Blood was spattered on the black tactical gear belt around his waist. There was a tear in the upper arm of his black on sleeve shirt. Your brows furrowed when you noticed the shield insignia. You knew for an absolute fact that he was Hydra. 

“We need you to patch up Winter.” His tone was cold straightforward, striding towards you to grasp your arm and pull you to your feet. You blood ran cold. (No pun intended. Okay, fine, pun definitely intended.) You had only healed The Winter Soldier three times during your two years as a Hydra prisoner, but each time it had drained you more than anything ever had before. You had been unconscious for a whole week once, and they had actually been forced to hook you up to an IV so that they’re little healer didn’t die. That man was damaged on all kinds of levels. 

“O-Okay.” You said, though your compliance meant nothing. Rumlow had already led you out of the cell and into the hallway. His vice like grip was unforgiving and would probably leave a bruise, but you didn’t dare tell him that. 

The Winter Soldier looked just like he had when you first saw him. His eyes were empty and upper torso caked with sweat and blood. He was leaning back in the deeply reclined chair, chest heaving with every breath. His eyes met yours as soon as you came into his line of sight. You swallowed and glanced away, taking a seat on the stool beside him. 

“S-Stay still so that I can clean the blood off your face.” Soaking a clean rag in some water, you began to slowly dab the blood off of his, careful to be gentle around the open wounds.

He kept his eyes open the entire time, watching you with his usual silent intensity. It was nerve-wracking, and you could feel your hands shaking as you reached down to clean the rag in the water. Without warning, he wrapped a lock of your hair around his finger and examined it closely.

“Look at me.” His other hand, the metal one, grasped your chin and prevented you from turning away. You obeyed, lifting your gaze to meet his for the first time since you walked in the door. His eyes shook you to the core. They were a light, grey blue, comparable to the color of the sky when it was overcast. But they were filled with a deep rooted pain, confusion, and a festering anger. 

“I feel like I know you. Have we met before?” He asked, and you glanced over where you last saw Rumlow only to see that he was gone. You were alone with him. 

Hesitantly, you nodded. “I’ve healed you after missions a few times. Patched up others.”

“Do you know-”

“Please,” You pleaded, trying to pull away from him. You could hear Rumlow’s footsteps coming back. “just lie back and let me heal you. He’ll hurt me if he sees us talking.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away and lied back down. You breathed a sigh in relief, took the gloves off your hands, and rubbed your palms together to bring your power to the surface. Gently, you ran you hands over his wounds. A soft golden light spread out from your hands and into his body. You could feel him healing, but the wounds you were closing weren’t just physical. The light sought out every open wound, desperately trying to heal them all. You tried to pull away but his hands grasped onto yours and wouldn’t let go. He was too strong, and the longer he kept your hands on his wounds the less you were able to fight back. You could feel your body turn cold, and inner life force wane in an effort to heal his soul. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Someone yelled, but you were too far gone. Darkness had claimed you.


	2. Call Me Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up. Bucky caught a bullet while rescuing you from Hydra, so you sew up his wounds. Then you ask to take a shower.

Someone was carrying you. The heat of flames licked at your skin and the distinct feel of wet fabric was pressed against your cheek. The sound of yelling and gunshots filled your ears, but it sounded far away. You were too weak to react, let alone be afraid. There was something else, another sound. This one was soft, consistent. It was a steady beat, one always following another at the same pace. The comforting sound, whatever it was, lulled you back into unconsciousness. 

The second time you drifted into the distant realm of a somewhat conscious state, there was something being pressed to your lips.

“Drink,” The voice said, gruff and demanding. Someone gently tipped your head back and you opened your mouth and eagerly swallowed the water they gave you. It was a battle to open your eyes through the thick fog of sleep, but once you did, it was clear you were no longer in Hydra. 

“W-Where am I?” You asked, trying to sit up. You had been laid down on an old couch, and you could feel that some extra cushions had been stuffed behind your head.

“Some place safe from Hydra. For now.” 

"I-I.. Why did you.." You sighed, and leaned back on the couch. You were still exhausted, but The Winter Soldier looked better than ever. "Thank you."

He gave you a strange look, like he still wasn't quite sure what to make of you. Finally, he nodded. You caught a glance of blood running down his arm and staining his shirt.

"You're bleeding. Come here," You said, beckoning him closer and pushing yourself up with your elbows so that you were sitting up.

"No." He frowned, pulling away. "You almost died last time."

Concern marred his brow and pulled at the corners of his lips. His blue eyes were no longer light blue. Once, when you were on the run, you had stayed by the ocean in an old beach house for a few months. The color of his eyes now reminded you of the color of the raging sea during a storm.

"H.. How long was I out?" Your voice was dry and raspy. He handed you the glass of water and you took small, careful sips.

"Four days."

You could feel your face pale and suddenly understood his cause for concern. Four days. You had been unconscious for four days. The Winter Soldier had gone all nurse and taken care of you for four days. The ridiculous image of him in one of those skimpy nurse uniforms flitted through your thoughts and you pushed it away immediately, desperately trying not to choke on your water. You doubted they made slutty nurse uniforms for shoulders that broad.

"I um, don't have to heal you. I'm still a pretty good nurse without the special powers." The words left your lips in a nervous chuckle. He moved over to sit beside you and handed you a first aid kit. You cracked it open and took out some cleaning wipes, bandages, a needle, and some thread.

"Take off your shirt."You didn't look him in the eyes.

It took him probably half a second to whip off the articles of clothing that covered his upper torso. The sculpted, firm mass of chest that had never distracted you before seemed to absolutely command your sole and undivided attention with a fierce determination now. Clearing your throat, you ripped open the package of cleaning wipes and began to dab away the blood.

“I have to um.. Start sewing now. You’re lucky that the bullet went straight through.” As soon as the needle pierced the skin of his left shoulder, his metal arm twitched, suddenly grabbing your upper thigh in a cold, secure grip. You gasped, and just as soon as it happened he let you go. 

“S-Sorry.” This time he was the one to stutter. The word left his lips sounding odd, like he wasn’t used to apologizing for any of his actions, ever. 

“It’s alright.” You assured him, trying to calm your racing heart while sewing up his wound. The cybernetic arm contined to twitch next to you as you worked. A few minutes later both sides were securely sewn shut and bandaged, when you realized you didn’t know his real name. “What should I call you?” 

He paused for a moment. “Bucky. You can call me Bucky.”

You smiled softly. “Bucky. I like that.”

He nodded. “I do too. It feels right.”

He moved away and you tried to stand, holding onto the couch to help steady yourself. “I need to take a shower,” You said, looking around. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“The shower is upstairs, first left.” He gestured towards the stairs with his head. You nodded, steeling your resolve for good personal hygiene. You’d have to go up the stairs slow, but you could do it. You carefully let go of the couch and took an awkward step forwards. The first steps were difficult, and more often than not you stumbled over your feet and had to grasp onto something. Bucky reached out for you but you held up your hand. 

“I’ve got this.” He pulled his hand away but continued to keep a careful eye on you. Slowly, you made it to the base of the stairs.

“This is painful to watch.” You heard from behind you, and without any warning, Bucky was grabbing your legs and effortlessly picking you up bridal style. 

“No, put me down. I can do this myself.” You began to squirm in his hold, which really only managed to get you snuggled closer to his chest, which was still bare and incredibly warm. For being called The Winter Soldier he was anything but cold. Seriously, his body was like one of those giant room heaters that blast out hot air. 

He gave you a look that clearly said: “No, you can’t.” Once he reached the bathroom he literally held you in one hand while he opened the door with the other. Gingerly, he placed you on the closed toilet. You awkwardly fidgeted, nervously glancing up at him. 

“Do you um.. Have any spare clothes I can wear? I’ve been wearing this for almost a week at this point.” He nodded, returning moments later with a pair of black boxers and a plaid button up shirt. They’d work. The clothes obviously weren’t Hydra standard uniform, so you wondered if maybe he had raided a department store or something. You thanked him and turned around to take off your top, but didn’t hear Bucky leave or the door shut behind him. Turning again, you gave him an odd look. 

“Do you maybe want to, step out while I take a shower?” 

He shook his head, his hands behind his back in that military pose while staring you head on. It was that no nonsense kind of stare that meant he was doing it, no matter what your opinion was on the matter. You groaned in realization. 

“Bucky, I’m not going to fall.” You used your most sincere voice, combined with the trademark puppy dog eyes, but nothing worked. He wasn’t leaving. 

“Alright, fine!” You threw your hands up in the air in frustration and stepped into the bathtub.Trying to forget about Bucky’s presence in the room wasn’t easy. He was silent as you undressed, and you couldn’t see him with the opaque shower curtain between you, but his presence was palpable in the room. Even when you couldn’t see him, or hear him, he was just there. The water spurted out of the shower head and onto your body, and you lathered your (h/c) locks in shampoo. The fresh smell of mint began to fill the room as you used the body wash and conditioner. Finally, when you had turned the water off, you quickly grabbed the towel and threw it around yourself before peeling back the shower curtain. 

“Could I get dressed by myself?” 

He shook his head again.


	3. Steve & Schwarma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You walk downstairs and see Bucky arguing with Captain Whats-His-Face.

There were two men arguing downstairs. You could hear them. One was The Win- Bucky. The other voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. The discussion was growing heated. Groaning softly at the remaining ache in your muscles, you stood. A rumble in your abdomen reminded you that you probably hadn’t eaten since he saved you from Hydra.

Legs quaking when you walked, you were forced to grip onto the objects around you for support. First it was the nightstand, then the wall, then the dresser, and once again more of the wall. Patience was a virtue you had always tried to practice, but being physically weak and unable to walk on your own grated on your nerves.

As you walked at a turtles pace towards the stairwell, you began to pick out bits of their conversation. The other man sounded so familiar, it was killing you inside. Dammit. You knew his name. You leaned against the wall for more support when your leg gave in a little.

“Bucky, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you-”

The ex-Hydra asset cut the unknown person off. “I’m not going. Now leave. And stop following me around.”

“But they can help you over at -"

“Over at where?” You asked, gripping the railing at the top of the stairs with one hand like a lifeline as you painstakingly descended. Jesus, you were never healing him again if you could help it. 

The two of them turned to you, both muscular men standing in the center of the barren living room. Now that you could put a face to the voice, you recognized the man instantly. He had been all over the news right before you were taken by Hydra.

“Hey, you’re that guy they dug out of the ice a few years ago! Captain what’s-his-face.”

He looked surprised and a bit taken back, but nodded. “Steve Rogers. Captain America.”

Bucky had you backed up into the wall in less than a heartbeat. His real hand touched your waist, the heat warm and doing weird things to you. 

“I thought I told you to rest?” His gaze was fierce and dark and unwavering. The tone he used told you that he had expected his command to be obeyed, making you suddenly feel very small and very vulnerable.

“Um. I-I got hungry.”

He took a step closer to you.

"You should have stayed in bed." He whispered, a soft growl began to rumble in his voice. 

Your stomach replied for you, causing a tinge of red to color your cheeks. 

He took a step back, ripped something out of Steve's hands and handed it to you. The brown paper bag with a printed symbol saying something called Shawarma was warm and smelled like food. 

"Who's this?" Steve asked, nodding his head towards you, who made your way over to the couch and carefully unpacked the bags contents. 

The steaming food looked delicious, whatever it was. It appeared to be a pita bread sandwich, stuffed with meat and chopped vegetables. You took a bite of the sandwich and closed your eyes, savoring the flavor. 

Bucky side stepped so that he was blocking the other mans view of you. 

"She's none of your business." 

You heard Steve sigh. "You should know by now that I'm not going to hurt either of you. You're my friend, Buck. And I'm with you-"

"I won't tell you again. Get out." 

The blond mans shoulders drooped. "Alright, fine." He fished out his wallet, a worn leather one with his initials sharpie-d in the corner and held out a small card with something scrawled on the back. "Call me. Anytime. And you two should check out the museum."

The dark haired soldier could tell that Steve wouldn't leave otherwise, so he nodded, stuck the card in the pocket of his sweatpants, and pointed to the door. 

Once Captain America had left, Bucky stiffly sat next to you on the faded couch. It was only when the rumble of a motorcycle had long since faded that he finally relaxed. You handed him a pita bread sandwich and he took it, ripping the folded paper off and devouring it in like three bites. You swore his jaw practically unhinged.

"So how do you know that guy?" You asked, curious as all hell. You wanted to know just what had happened out in the Big Apple while you had been stuck inside a cell. 

"He says we're friends, but I.. I don't remember any of it." Bucky cringed and rubbed his right temple with his human hand, sandwich temporarily discarded on the coffee table. 

You grabbed the other hand, the metal one, and laced your fingers through it. 

"Memories can be recovered, you know. Hydra can't truly erase memories, they just push them away." 

He searched your face for a moment. "You're serious?" 

"Of course," you nod. "They can come back with time, doing things you used to do or talking to people and going places you used to go can all help."

He took the card out of his pocket and kept turning it and reading the numbers. 

“I don’t remember him but when I look at him, or even when I stare at his handwriting, something itches inside of me." When he said the words, you could hear his inner turmoil. It tugged at your heart and made you feel things, it made you begin to care about another human being. Which was dangerous for you, because for as long as you could remember it had always been just you, on your own, going solo and telling the rest of the world to go screw itself.

"Maybe we should go to that museum he was talking about. There could be something there. That guy’s really famous, and if you knew him you're probably famous too." You said it, and as you did you knew that there was no way in hell you’d be leaving him soon. This feeling, this whole caring about someone else deal, was maybe something worth exploring. 

“Hydra will be looking for us.” He reminded you, grabbing the sandwich of the table and eating the rest of it in a few chomps. The man was like a food consuming vacuum.

"Luckily for you I'm a master at disguise." You smirked, fondly remembering all the times you used to sneak into amusement parks as a kid on the run. 

He nodded. "Tomorrow we'll go. Right now you need to rest." 

You glared at the cause of your weakness. "You need to stop getting shot at so that I don't have to heal you anymore." 

It was his turn to smirk. “No promises, but I’ll try, doll face.”

Yawning loudly, you could feel the exhaustion returning. Your eyes began to water and you turned to look and the staircase with obvious dislike, not at all wanting to climb up it with the soreness present in your legs. A metal arm wrapped around your torso and began to gently move you. Turning to look at Bucky, you found him stuffing pillows behind his back and beginning to lay down. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, not bothering to do anything as he tugged your body in between his legs until your back pressed against his warm chest.

“I know you’re tired, and I haven’t been able to sleep by myself, so just lay down.” He whispered, pulling a threadbare blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over you.

“Alright, fine.” Huffing, you made yourself comfortable against his torso and let your eyes close. You fell asleep to the feeling of his human hand combing through your hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay, guys. I hope it was okay. I've been working on my novel lately. Check it out? http://www.wattpad.com/story/29969122-naika


	4. Missing Chapter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys I am so sorry! This is actually a missing chapter that goes after two and before three. Think of it like Chapter 2.5 It's short. Like, really short. It's a scene where you get dressed and fall asleep, all with the help of our brooding, handsome hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short as fuck but more is on the way.

Slowly, you turned around so that your back was to him, clothes in front of you. If he wanted you to dress in front of him, fine. You’d dress in front of him. With unexpected boldness, you dropped the towel. You could hear Bucky adjust his footing behind you. Good, you thought. Let the stubborn ass be uncomfortable. It served him right. You pulled on the boxers and buttoned up the plaid shirt, both pieces of clothing at least two sizes too big. The black boxers fell to your knees and the shirt halfway down your thighs, the sleeves about four inches too long. It wasn’t that you were short, because you weren’t. Bucky was just massive, built like a tank. Once you were decent, you turned around.

“So,” Your soft yawn interrupted your words. “What’s the plan?”

Carefully, you began to walk across the wet floor and to Bucky. On the last step your foot slips and he catches you, wrapping one hand around your waist and drawing you into his chest as if on reflex.

“I needed you in the living room so that I could monitor you, but now you can sleep in the bedroom. Rest. I have to go out and meet someone.”

You nodded. Exhaustion was already beginning to overwhelm you. Without any warning he picked you up again, turning off the lights in the bathroom and walking you over into the bedroom. Gosh, you think as you curl into his chest. He’s so warm. He curls back the covers and sets you into the bed with a gentleness you’d have never thought a soldier like him would be capable of. Just as he turns to leave, you grab his hand.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise more is on the way, guys.


	5. A Silent Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect much following this. I apologize for my absence.

Consciousness slowly returned to you, and you snuggled closer into the heat source you were next to. Your hands further wound themselves into soft strands and hot breath fanned against your face. One very strong, heavy metal arm laid on top of your waist, anchoring you to him. A human hand played with the ends of your hair. You were stuck, the couch against your back and the rest of your body completely wrapped around Bucky, both pairs of legs a tangle of limbs.

“How do you feel?” The vibration of his words rumbled through his chest and you blinked your eyes open to face him.

“Good. Sorry I’m all up in your space here. I’ll uh, move.” You begin to extract yourself from him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks and with a slight mechanical whirr, the metal arm moves from your waist and frees you from a confining position which you didn’t find entirely disagreeable. Okay, so you didn't find it at all disagreeable.

Bucky mumbles quietly under his breath, “You don’t have to apologize.”

You cough, feeling awkward. “So, the museum?”

He nods. “I’m only letting you go if you can walk confidently on your own.”

You stand up, a bit shakily at first, but then balance out. There’s still a slight soreness to your muscles that stubbornly lingers but your steps are considerably more confident than they had been before.

"I think I'm just about fully recovered," You say with a smile, and Bucky looks relieved.

He looks as though he blames himself for your weakened state but it wasn't at all his fault, it was yours. You're the one with the powers that held self-destructive tendencies. You're the one that needs to figure out how to reign them in and exert more self control.

Before you can express this vocally, Bucky tosses you some civilian attire to change into and the both of you promptly do so. Bucky either only looked at the sizes of the clothes or was directly attempting to make the both of you look like you just walked out of an alley-way dumpster.

You put your second-day unwashed hair in a french side braid and Bucky’s hair up into one of those man-buns which looks far better on him than you’d admit to anyone. He leaves the results of his week of not shaving, which is quickly developing into a full-on beard, on his face. The result is a relatively dramatic difference in his appearance that you don’t intend to complain about, at all, anytime in the near future.

The both of you put on a pair of shades and exit the back door of the empty house.

The museum is bustling when the two of you arrive. Bucky pays for the tickets in cash. You quietly wonder where he obtained this money but don’t ask questions. His right hand is shaking a bit—he’s nervous.

You take a chance and envelop your fingers in his and squeeze reassuringly, for just a moment. “We don’t have to do this, Bucky."

The words only make him more resolute. “No, I need to know."

It would be very strange, you think, to have been frozen for so much time and then suddenly be awake in the future. To not remember anything from the past but see your face among one you were meant to kill and another five you don’t recognize. It’s impossible not to wonder what kind of inner turmoil Bucky must be going through.

You hold Bucky’s hand while he goes through the exhibit. He reads every passage and footnote and carefully examines every picture of him and Steve. It’s like he’s trying to immerse himself in the past and remember something— anything.

You even notice that some of the framed documents have funny little handwritten notes that you somehow know are written by Bucky. One is on the printed out Howling Commando files, he had crossed out the Captain's Steve's title, which had been printed "Operations Command" and had written, in sloping cursive, "giant reckless jerk".

All the pictures of Bucky were almost exclusively with him and Steve. Always together.

You looked over at him, completely absorbed in a past which he cannot remember, and felt deep sorrow.

You vow silently to reunite the two best friends at any cost.


End file.
